Ever since my days as an undergrad English major, I couldn't help but notice how literature can act as a very strange mirror. Poetry and narrative fiction both have this effect, but with differences.

I find writing relaxing and when I write poetry, I find myself in deep introspection, even if I read what I just wrote and find myself perplexed afterward. But, I suppose that's its own little reward: to see something, a connection, you don't quite understand. Emily Dickinson has a firm influence on my poetry: I don't title it.

I have come to the conclusion that poetry and creative writing in general is my form of meditation and release.

Bring me the Stars

and I shall remain

unsatisfied;

bring me the Stones

and I shall pave a Path.

(By Shawn Ewing)

Like I said before, sometimes poetry is obscure to even the writer. The following is heavy with images, as all poetry is.

Before me the Spiral:

it gleams and shines--

though it is false.

Lead wings fly

on the Wind called Sorrow

(By Shawn Ewing).

The above to are two recent poems I wrote. I actually wrote them yesterday (8/31/14).

(There is a picture with this but it is too faint to scan. It shows a dragon beside a Young lady he is touching her shoulder and she is reaching up with her hand on the side of the dragon's neck. The dragon is sitting behind her in what is my impression as a supportive an caring stance)